


Blood is Thicker Than Water

by EveryoneIsWeirdToday



Series: To Drink Water, To Drink Blood [1]
Category: SHINee, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Cannibalism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Duelling, Gun Violence, M/M, Poisoning, Revenge, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 05:27:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14993780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryoneIsWeirdToday/pseuds/EveryoneIsWeirdToday
Summary: Taemin wouldn't be expecting Jimin to seek revenge, but Jimin is and he's going to make sure he exacts it.





	Blood is Thicker Than Water

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THE TAGS I'M NOT JOKING. THIS STORY IS VERY VIOLENT.

His heels clicked against the stone floors. The sounds were crisp, dry, the echoes short lived as the owner of the black leather riding boots walked with purpose. He avoided the large stains of burgundy, stepped over them with immunity and grace. The stains shone under the moonlight that pressed through the windows. Burnt red pools, aged darker like fine wine. The bodies those splatters once belonged to a mere memory, an occurrence suggested by the stains which were dragged across the stone but led to nothing solid.

 

He stepped around them, yes, but never looked down at them. They were memories and experiences that happened behind him. His sight was trained only forward. The moonlight gave him equal amounts of attention, coming through the tall and silver gilded windows to surround him in every perfect angle. Body pale, lips plumped so thick, and so red, that anyone would have a hard time believing a puncture wouldn't cause the most divine red rivulets of blood to pour out. He moved with precision. His hips swayed with the grace of each step, and turned the corner of the hall in a hug, a reflex.

 

The halls were freezing, cold and grey when not decorated with blood frozen in time. Dusty, only clean where paintings once hung, where heavy velvet drapes once flowed. If he smelled the aging building, he didn't show it. His face was as hard and cold as the manor that he wound his way through, heels clicking away like they once used to as he lead himself through the familiar building.

 

Strong and shapely legs, covered in tight, but comfortable, leather pants, pushed him through the halls. Guns strapped around the thick thighs, decorative tassels and chains dangling from the handle of each gun. He carried himself with confidence and dignity. But as he got closer to his destination, his jaws tightened and his stomach felt elevated.

 

Doors taller than him, if he stood at least two more times his own height, challenged him from the end of his final corridor. Dark wood, studded with iron clavoses square in style. His breath hitched as he neared the door, a feeling of domestic nostalgia washed over him. Memories of laughing, giggling, tugging at the door handles while being ushered inside. Recollections of want and need, gasps and moans while being pushed into the wood and struggling to find the handles that would lead them to privacy.

 

He stopped walking, halfway to the door.

 

His fists clenched and he clenched his jaws. Those old thoughts and feelings melted away from him as he tried to regain his control, regain his focus. He had to calm down, he had to. His heart was beating fast, it was racing back to him from where he left it in the past. And that wouldn't do, because he could only look forward.

 

He continued walking.

 

With a blink the doors were before him. His fingers itched to crawl up the wood, stay for a moment and just _feel._ But if he allowed it, he would've failed without starting. Instead, he gripped the round antique handle; a silver snake with its tail in its mouth. He thumbed the design, fingertips grazing the intricate pattern of scales.

 

He straightened his back, steeled his face, then pulled the door open.

  
  


The doors were opposite of the magnificent windows that consumed the wall. The moon shone through powerfully, was visible in all her glory as a perfectly circular disk of silver. Heavy and thick black drapes pushed aside to show her off. And she casted a beautiful light into the otherwise dark bed chamber. Intricate parquet flooring that radiated a pattern starting from the center of the room. An exotic wallpaper plastered the walls, a luxuriously decorated canopy bed, a wall lined with books, a fireplace, and rugs created from years of hunts.

 

Everything, constantly as he remembered it. It was frozen in time, the only place that was cleaned frequently and lived in.

 

A chaise lounge, as old as the rococo period it came from, lusciously plumped as the day it was made; it faced the moon, away from the bedroom door and in the middle of the room. He stepped in, closing the door behind him, and just stood.

 

His chest filled with a careful breath.

 

Just as he let out the air calmly, a hand reached from a body he could not see but knew was there. It reached toward the end table that accompanied the chaise. The hand was elegant, with long fingers and manicured nails. It was the hand of a man older than him, not shown by wrinkles or liver spots, but in the refined grace it always moved with, grace the man always moved with. His hands never shook, never wavered, never attacked with uncertainty. That hand reached for the short clear glass, which only had one final sip of amber liquid and a large sphere of ice, and brought it to the body shielded by the chaise lounge.

 

When the hand brought the glass back to the table, it was empty.

 

“Jimin. You're back.” The voice was hushed, as eternal as honey, mellow and cloying, sticking all over Jimin's body.

 

He swallowed and stepped closer to the lounge steadily, with the same efficiency he had made his way through the manor with.

 

“Of course I'm back.” Jimin gravitated towards the couch, holding his head high. Everything about him was stark, his back ramrod straight, his neck, fingers coming together in front of himself. Jimin came closer to the table, and then around it, and finally in front of the lounge.

 

There, laid across the chaise, was the man that haunted Jimin's mind. He was just as pale as Jimin, with lips that rivaled the latter's. The man gazed up at Jimin, dark eyes twinkling under the moon's radiance. His position was relaxed, sunken into the chaise, covered in furs and silks. Jimin could only tell which were blankets and which were robes by the pure intimacy he once shared with the man. How Jimin used to shed those same brown furs and red silks off of the man's broad shoulders. How he would card his fingers through the midnight colored locks, pulling in pleasure or tugging with mirth.

 

The man dragged his eyes down Jimin's body like an anchor through a bed of sand, disturbingly, only stopping when he dug his intentions through him enough to settle.

 

But whereas he had the pleasure of settling, like the sea bed an anchor rips through, Jimin stayed unsettled. In his presence Jimin always felt restless and casted upward, like the stirred sand, waiting for all his grains to fall softly back to the sandy floor.

 

It felt like his life would never come down.

 

All because of the man before him: Taemin.

 

He eyed Jimin, staring openly at the younger’s chest. Jimin knew how tempting silk made him look, a few buttons popped open for the sake of appeal. He took pride in his figure, and the deeply cut V-shaped neckline of the black silk shirt only made his form all the more slinky and sexual, shifting and clinging to him like liquid. And there was a time where Taemin's heated gaze would've had Jimin weak at the knees no more than a second in, but now Jimin stared back at him evenly, devoid of any partiality he once owned.

 

“You're not cold?” Taemin drank in the sight of Jimin's collar bones.

 

“No.” Jimin gestured to the end table with the short glass, “May I refill it?”

 

Taemin's eyes followed Jimin's hand to the glass, gaze uninterested but polite. He gave a noise of consent. His hand sliding to his face in thought; cupping his chin, index finger covering his lips, all the while appreciating Jimin's frame as it moved to collect the glass. Taemin's eyes trailed after Jimin even as he rounded the arm of the chaise.

 

Jimin walked back toward the door; along that wall was the bar area. Just a few glasses, quartz decanters and dusty wines. He placed the whiskey glass down and wrapped his hands around the neck of a crystalline decanter, half full of a caramel colored liquor. A breath left Jimin, and he had to concentrate so hard on keeping it from quivering. His hand tightened around the decanter— _be calm, be calm, be calm._ If Taemin heard his heart race, Jimin's night would come to a premature end. He closed his eyes and relaxed; _relax, relax._

 

Jimin looked over his shoulder carefully. Taemin was still hidden by the lounge, so he turned back around. His hands, cold and timid, carefully reached into his silk blouse, down to where it was tucked into his trousers. In the loose flap of material, his fingers grazed and grasped a small pill. He quickly drew it out.

 

It was oval, a clear capsule filled with white powder.

 

The enchanted ashes of roses and ashwood.

 

“You do know where the bar is, don't you?” Taemin asked playfully.

 

The joke was unappreciated. It only served to remind Jimin that he didn't have all the time in the world. He licked his drying lips. Taemin was expecting an answer. “Just wondering which whiskey you're in the mood for.”

 

Frankly, Jimin was on the verge of panicking. He wondered if the rosy scent of the ashes would come through in liquor. His fingers toyed with the capsule, and he chewed his lips. Jimin looked over his shoulder again. Taemin was still hidden, laying down relaxed.

 

Taemin hummed thoughtfully. “Forget about the whiskey,” he decided. “I think I want a glass of wine. Red.”

 

Jimin's eyes widened, hands frozen over the whiskey glass, almost cracking the pill open.

 

“Served _qum sanguinem,_ ” he added.

 

A relieved smiled creased Jimin's face. Yes, wine served _qum sanguinem_ would certainly mask the scent, and definitely overpower the taste. “An excellent choice,” he muttered.

But Taemin heard, and voiced his agreement.

 

So Jimin, with newfound confidence, broke open the tablet hurriedly and shook it into one of the wine glasses that sat on the bar. He reached for one of the long-necked green wine bottles, hands shaking and when he realized how hasty he was being, slowed himself, carefully, reminding himself not to rush. Grab it calmly. Take it slowly. With a relaxed breath he picked up the bottle, uncorked it, and poured it into a tall, clear beaker.

 

The dark red liquid cascaded down luxuriously, filling up to a measurement that made Jimin satisfied.

 

“How's the weather outside?” Taemin's hushed voice asked.

 

Jimin stuffed the cork back into the bottle carefully and set it aside. “Cold,” he replied, automatically, “as usual.”

 

Taemin laughed, entertained by something Jimin couldn't place his finger on, so he continued with his task. He picked up another green bottle, this one from inside the cooling cabinet. He began to shake the cold bottle, quite heavily.

 

At the sound, Taemin made another remark. “I love when you make drinks for me.” Jimin's ears twitched as he heard Taemin shuffle on the chaise, his shaking slowed. “There's just something about the way you make them.”

 

Jimin's eyes slid to the glass that contained the poisonous powder. Taemin settled, finding a comfortable position. When he was sure Taemin wasn't watching him, he shook the bottle a few more times.

 

When the bottle was unscrewed, the smell that came from it was overpowering. Harsh, metallic, meaty, rotten. Jimin had to clench his jaw when his nostrils flared, affronted by the pungent odor.

 

He heard Taemin hum in content. “Smells good,” he sighed.

 

Jimin ignored the statement in favor of pouring it alongside the wine in the beaker, a darker red than the wine. It came out thick, heavy and languidly. The liquid hit the wine with weight to it, more dense and of a gummous quality. It would be absolutely appalling to anyone who had a decent and respectable sense of taste.

 

But it made Jimin's mouth water.

 

He watched hypnotized as the burnt burgundy liquid struggled to mix with the wine. His tongue peeked out and he licked his lips. Saliva was building up in his mouth, so much so that he had to swallow twice. The scent of wine mixed with sanguinem was mouth watering.

 

It was consuming him, the thought of taking that chilly bottle and tossing back all the contents. Drinking until there wasn't anything left in the glass. His gums itched at the thought. He could feel his pupils dilating, his sense of smell heightening and alerting him of the presence, the closeness, of a vital survival food. His vision grew sharper, every curve of every bottle, every small bubble of oxygen floating within the mixture, every tiny particle of dust that he stirred up while at the bar, everything there was to be seen became visible to him.

 

Jimin picked up the glass stirring rod and began to stir the liquids in the beaker together madly. He was trying to distract himself. He didn't need it, he didn't _want_ it. Clenching his jaws was beginning to hurt his teeth, so he loosened up and took a shallow breath. He closed his eyes. _Calm, calm, calm down._ When he opened his eyes again everything was as it should be. He tapped the stirring rod on the beaker and poured the mixed beverage into the wine glass with the toxin. Jimin stirred it thoroughly, until there was no trace of powder.

 

He observed the drink. Puce colored, smelling of raw minerals and sour grapes.

 

This was it. There were only two steps left.

 

“Do you need help, Jimin?” Taemin was growing impatient.

 

So was Jimin.

 

He smiled to himself with a sort of cautious contentment. “No. Just had some trouble deciding which flavors to use.”

 

“So meticulous in your drink making. I feel honored.”

 

Jimin dared to smile wider at Taemin's comment as he picked up the wine glass by its stem, and walked back to the chaise. He rounded the gaudy piece of furniture and presented the glass to Taemin. The latter smirked at him and reached forward, taking it delicately. Jimin crossed his fingers in front of himself. The older of the two swirled the beverage around in its glass, sniffing it curiously. Then he put the glass to his lips.

 

Time must've stopped.

 

Jimin could feel his stomach wringing in anticipation.

 

Taemin's plush lips cradled the rim of the glass, and he tipped it so that the liquid traveled closer to his mouth.

 

The Wise One told Jimin that the first signs of toxin taking effect would be the victim feeling sweaty or clammy, a reddening of the face and body, then coughing as mucus developed in their esophagus, building and building until they choked to death from their own phlegm and boiling from fever. Jimin clenched his hands together tighter. The poisoning would lead to a death that was way more merciful than the deaths Taemin caused their family, and far less painful than the pain he’d caused Jimin to suffer.

 

But Taemin brought the glass back down from his mouth, without drinking. Instead his face turned beguiling, and he rubbed his free hand into the plush fabrics of his robes and blankets. “Aren't you going to relax? You seem stiff.”

 

Was it paranoia, or did Taemin seem to be taunting Jimin?

 

The smile that cut into Taemin's face was Cheshire, and Jimin had known the man long enough to understand that Taemin always seemed omniscient anyway, even if he wasn't, and so he did relax his shoulders. He rolled them and his neck, giving them a meaningful rub before inching to the chaise. Taemin watched him, his smile going from guile to lascivious. As Jimin crawled into a comfortable position, kicking his boots off in the process, he took the opportunity to bask in the power he held. There was Taemin, practically licking his lips at every curve and movement of Jimin's body, all the while holding a drink that would soon have his body pulling taut in a swan song. Jimin laid just as leisurely as Taemin, on the opposite side of the chaise, head propped on the chair’s back. Finally, _finally_ , knowing things that Taemin didn't. Letting Taemin mistake his content grin for sexual interest was the least he could do.

 

Comfortable with Jimin's toes against his legs, Taemin finally drank from the glass.

 

Jimin's heart was in his throat.

 

Of course, the Wise One had said the reaction wouldn't be immediate, so Jimin just had to bide his time. It would be easy, after all—he'd been doing it for months.

 

But the drink passed through Taemin's mouth at a quicker rate than Jimin was mentally prepared to deal with. Taemin paused for a second, a split second, and then downed the last half.

 

Jimin swallowed his heart when the last gulp rolled down Taemin's throat.

 

Taemin looked at the glass with a pleased smile. “Good, very good.” he complimented. A smirk curled onto Jimin's face. “As always.”

 

He looked at Jimin curiously, “Are you sure you wouldn't care for a drink?”

 

“Absolutely positive,” Jimin assured him.

 

Taemin only shrugged in the heavy furs that draped him, the movement barely visible. He placed the wine glass back onto the side table and cozied himself into the chaise. Jimin watched every expanse of Taemin's skin that he could see. He watched for it to become ruddy, he waited for sweat, chills, coughing.

 

Jimin was very impatient.

 

“I was thinking, perhaps we could go to one of Teukie’s little balls sometime soon. You know he has a thing for hosting events…” Taemin suggested blandly.

 

The small talk, the awkward conversations, putting up a front. All of that, Jimin was at his wits end with. He was so tired of spending his nights awake and bored, sitting in a cold, nearly abandoned manor in the middle of the forest.

 

“Yes. Maybe,” Jimin replied.

 

It earned him a small laugh, then Taemin's gaze drifted to him. “How do you feel about the wolves he’s allowing to move into the district?”

 

Jimin was too scared to give a direct reply, so he shrugged. “Isn’t hating werewolves passé?”

 

“Jimin,” Taemin said his name in a tone that was already chastising in itself, there wasn’t a need for the rest of his disagreeing sentence. “Werewolves are even more territorial than us. Don’t you suppose there would be a fight for the land later down the road? Especially so close to us now.”

 

The new zoning efforts made by the County Elders brought wolves closer than any of their vampiric neighbors. Taemin didn’t like that there were werewolves in their woods, and it was making him sour. “If you’re so worried about it, why don’t you talk to the Elders? Perhaps since our family was murdered by a pack, they’ll have empathy for us.” All he could do was hope Taemin dropped the conversation. Jimin could barely contain the sarcasm that stained the suggestion.

 

“Hm, it is something to consider.”

 

Jimin swallowed heavily as Taemin stretched his arm out and dragged his finger around the rim of the wine glass. It was something to do, certainly more entertaining than anything else that was left in this dusty place.

 

“Then consider it, Sire,” Jimin watched Taemin casually, “if it will help you rest easier.”

 

Taemin looked towards Jimin just as he ended the sentence. It was like his breath was caught in his throat, it was so hard to hold Taemin's eyes. But tonight wasn't the night to avert looks. So he stared right back at Taemin, continuing his observations. No change in his complexion. His breathing seemed fine. Jimin dragged his eyes all over Taemin's face. He honed in on the red that stained Taemin's lips. Tantalizing and delectable, Jimin could almost smell it from where he sat. As he cherished the appetizing appearance of Taemin's lips, a tongue poked out flirtatiously. Pink, and probably warm, Jimin could almost feel it pressing against his mouth. Such a familiar feeling.

 

“Rather, if you're not up for a drink,” Taemin's mouth shaped out. “Could I offer you a meal?”

 

Jimin's breath hitched, but despite his desperation, he gave Taemin a playfully small smile. “Oh? Isn't it a bit late to be eating?” His toes played along Taemin's legs in a suggestive manner.

 

“Well, we both do love a midnight snack.”

 

Before Jimin could answer, Taemin had shifted, moved and crawled into Jimin's personal space. He pushed between his legs, leaned over and secured Jimin's waist between his supportive arms. Taemin was urging Jimin's head up with his own, sniffing along his neck slowly. Jimin breathed carefully, not tensing up, but remaining as collected as he could. He trusted the Wise One’s smoke cleanse to rid him of the smell of wolves.

 

Then he felt Taemin's tongue against the column of his neck. Then a kiss, a flurry of kisses making their way up and to Jimin's face. The last one landed on the corner of his mouth. Jimin couldn't help but to look longingly at his lips, he wanted them on him so bad.

 

Taemin read his mind, and dipped in again, kissing him. Jimin tipped his head up, and they both opened their mouths, skipping the teasing, not bothering with temptation.

 

The smell of the sanguinem invaded Jimin's nostrils, and they flared. He took in the scent of iron and meat, mixed with the sour undertones of wine.

 

The scent of blood made his gums itch in need.

 

Jimin stuffed his tongue into Taemin's mouth, catching Taemin off guard. He swiped through the cavern, licking up any trace of blood left in Taemin's mouth. Jimin chased after the metallic taste, the comforting aspect of being his natural self. He could feel Taemin's hands suddenly clutching his waist, holding him tightly, pushing into Jimin with just as much fervor.

 

With every lap Jimin made at Taemin's inner cheeks, every swipe he made along his gums and teeth, under his tongue, picking up all the residual traces of blood from the drink; Jimin could feel the tremors down his spine, down his arms and legs. He could feel his skin tighten ever so as the blood renewed his health. He sucked at Taemin's tongue aggressively, pulling out every last bead of blood Taemin's taste buds had drank previously, and the aggression was not lost to Taemin. He growled, latching his teeth into Jimin's tongue as a warning.

 

Jimin receded and Taemin sucked his tongue gently in return. To Jimin's dismay, Taemin untangled himself and gave Jimin a peck on the lips. They both sighed and tried to catch their breaths. Taemin gave a sultry smile before sitting up further and swinging his legs off the chaise. He stood up, his extensive layers of fur and silk robes cascaded off the chaise with him, trailing after him as he walked to the bar. Jimin watched him go, curiously observing and trying to calm his racing heart.

 

Some would say kissing the remaining blood out of Taemin's mouth was dangerous, after all, it did contain traces of the toxins. But Jimin was given the antidote, so he would remain safe despite the kiss.

 

Taemin unplugged the bottle of sanguinum that Jimin had used for the mixed drink. “You really know how to rile me up,” He said, a broad grin cracking through his face as he looked back at Jimin.

 

Jimin just returned the grin cockily. “I sure do.” It made his heart flutter, having so much power in that moment, for once in his life, over Taemin. That he could even get away with kissing him safely without repercussions made him feel amazing. He could poison him, then kiss him, then _kill_ him.

 

He watched as Taemin tossed his head back, drinking the blood straight from the bottle. Gulp after gulp, swallow after swallow, Taemin kept going. And Jimin, with his heightened senses, could hear each wave of liquid going down his throat. There was a time where Jimin would find a moment like this intoxicating, watching as his lover drank so effortlessly the life force that their kind needed, sculpted chest on full display, covered in rich materials.

 

Jimin took a deep breath.

 

Suddenly, Taemin looked at him sharply, with a blistering smile and bloodied teeth. He closed his lips and swirled his tongue around to clean his teeth. When he was satisfied, he smiled again.

 

Jimin swallowed hard. He couldn't help feeling that he was missing something, even though he knew he had covered all bases going into this.

 

“You're just so sexy,” Taemin said, looking right into Jimin. “And cute,” He added as an afterthought.

 

Once again, their conversations had become dry, and Jimin struggled to remember the times where they could spend days talking to each other nonstop about any and everything. Now though, every conversation was a pained labor, at least on Jimin's part.

 

“I try.” The reply was flavorless.

 

Taemin only glanced Jimin up and down before smiling tightly. He placed the bottle down and politely crossed his fingers together, holding his hands across his abdomen. Jimin straighter up, because it was the posture Taemin took when he wanted to begin a serious discussion.

 

“You know I love you, right, Jimin?”

 

Jimin nodded his head stiffly. “Yes.”

 

A hum escaped Taemin, and he took a breath. Seemingly thinking about his next few words. “These woods I fought for. To give us a place to live.” He was standing directly behind the chair now, hands clutching the back, leaning forward, his eyes trained through the window across, at the large expanse of trees and a gleaming moon.

 

Jimin wanted to laugh bitterly. The _us_ Taemin spoke of was no more. It was just Jimin and him. Taemin made sure of that. People Jimin used to dine and play with, hunt with, relax with, reduced to nothing more than the old stains that coated every which way in the manor.

 

A dry laugh escaped Taemin. “This place isn't in the best condition, I know. We never did like dusting.” Jimin didn't laugh. “But I like to protect what's mine,” he finished stonily.

 

Did he? Jimin wondered. Taemin didn't much protect their clan. In fact, he was the one who killed them all.

 

Jimin had to force his thoughts away and remain in the task at hand. He squeezed his eyes shut for a split second. And he could feel Taemin observing him.

 

“Don't you want to protect what's yours?”

 

Jimin didn't answer immediately. Instead he swallowed what little saliva his drying mouth had, shifting as the environment went from steamy to uncomfortable. Of course he wanted to protect what was his. It ranged from the honor of his now deceased clan, to the manor and woods, and, more recently, his new friends. None of it included Taemin, though. He chanced a glance at Taemin, who was still then, staring directly at Jimin. Jimin opened his mouth to reply with something saccharine and obtuse, but it was too late. The time Taemin had allotted him expired.

 

Taemin gave another dry chuckle. “I see.” He looked at Jimin, or rather, through him. “Well if you can't answer that, answer me this: what _is_ yours, anyway? What do you hold dearly?”

 

Jimin swallowed. His pride, mostly. It was one of the few personal things he had left. His clan’s honor was another thing. He had no idea whether other vampires knew about the massacre Taemin committed, and if they did, no help was received nor a bounty on Taemin's head.

 

The older of the two snorted. Again, Jimin had run out of time to answer. “Unlike you, I actually have answers. What's dear to me? You. Your life, your health. What do I want to protect? You. I want to protect you, and my home—this manor. The woods that surround us. All my property.”

 

Jimin winced.

 

Taemin grew more and more agitated as he bit every word out. His hands were clenched around the wood framing of the chaise, and when Jimin heard the wood crack and splinter, he looked to see Taemin's nails long and digging into the chair.

 

His heart picked up.

 

“Do you even love me as I love you?” Taemin questioned, eyes boring into Jimin, daring him to say an unwanted answer.

 

Though his instincts screamed _no, don't answer,_ Jimin couldn't help but finally open his mouth at the most dangerous of all questions. “I did once. But we both know I no longer do.” His reply was as acidic as the question; insulting, painful, harsh, and undiluted.

 

But Taemin took it well. His face pinched into a content smile, small and dangerous. “I must admit,” he took in a shaky breath. Jimin just watched him stiffly, muscles tense and waiting to jump into a protective stance. “It does hurt to hear you finally admit it.” His fingers left the cracked wood as he took on a more relaxed stance.

 

Jimin wanted to scoff. It hurt Taemin to hear Jimin finally admit to not loving him anymore? Well, it hurt Jimin to walk into his home every day, to see the halls empty and devoid of the life and laughter that used to fill them. It hurt Jimin to witness Taemin murdering every single member of their clan in their own home. If Taemin wanted to dare speak on hurt feelings, Jimin could surely write him a speech or two on the topic before driving the pen through Taemin's heart.

 

Taemin's gaze was searching Jimin's face for a response. When Jimin kept his jaw firmly shut Taemin sighed and ran his hands through his hair, a forced laugh made a sickening smile split his face. He turned back to the bar, pouring more blood into his mouth, probably to calm down. Jimin could see Taemin's hands shaking, and it was never from nerves.

 

He placed the wine bottle on the bar gently. Jimin moved to get off the couch, but Taemin's voice stopped him dead in his motions.

 

“You think I don't know that you've poisoned me? Cute.”

 

Jimin turned his head toward Taemin, carefully. Taemin's stare was penetrating, stabbing into Jimin so violently that Jimin couldn't do anything but stare, mouth agape.

Taemin let out a rude little chuckle of mock disbelief. “You really thought I didn't know?” He started to make his way back to the front of the chaise, and Jimin stood up hastily, standing firmly on the floor barefooted. His muscles did tense up, his eyes tracked Taemin's every move. The man just walked calm and collected, as graceful as ever. “Jimin, you really ought to know better. Just who do you think I am?” His smirk was vile.

 

But Jimin was truly tired of Taemin's bullshit. He narrowed his eyes in ire and tried to calm his breathing. “If I didn't know who you were before, now I really do,” he spat.

 

It surprised Taemin, who raised a brow and tipped his head curiously, a feline smile playing at his lips. “Let me tell you a little secret.” He took a step closer, “All you did was prolong their lives.” A hubristic chuckle. “I was always going to kill them.”

 

“Shut up!” Jimin screamed, heart-broken. He brought his hands up to his face and pushed away the tears trying to flood from his eyes. “Stop it, Taemin! Just stop!”

 

Instead, Taemin laughed cruelly, as if Jimin's display of emotion was as trivial and humorous as a circus act. “I'm telling you the truth though, aren't I?” He sighed, that content sigh one does after they've thoroughly enjoyed a joke. Taemin glanced out the window. “Unlike you, I'm shameless enough to own up to my wrong-doings.” His eyes slid back to Jimin, “Still, you haven't openly admitted your desires, your plans to kill me.”

 

Jimin's mouth curled dangerously, “You already know, so why would it matter?”

 

“I want to hear you say it!” Taemin barked out. “You never talk. Silent, slinking around this manor, hiding in the shadows and giving me the cold shoulder. Don't think I'm clueless to your little adventures. Don't think I'm clueless to anything!” His eyes were slowly turning a dangerous hue of deep purple. He gestured to himself angrily. “Don’t _fuck_ with me Jimin! This time it won’t be half as pleasurable for you.” The tone that fell from his mouth was as icy as the coldest snowfall.

 

A gasp lodged itself into Jimin’s throat as he looked at Taemin in horror. He knew?

 

It was like he could hear Jimin’s very thoughts, “Of course I knew. Wipe that fucking look off your face.”

 

He was frozen in place, unsure of what to do.

 

“The best part about it is,” Taemin continued, “that you don’t realize how different you smell.” His mouth was quirked in what could’ve been mistaken for joy, happiness, elation, but Jimin knew that this was the effect of Taemin’s mentality spiralling away. “You don’t realize how much you smell like wet dog.”

 

The comment punctured Jimin like a bullet aimed to kill. His eyes widened slightly, disbelief coming to broaden his perspective. He had pranced around assuming Taemin was a naive and arrogant man living in his self-made palace. But, at that very moment, Taemin had to know _a lot_ and was just biding his time, waiting for Jimin to make the first move. Once Jimin made it, Taemin was ready with his nails sharpened and teeth gleaming. All the advantages Jimin thought he had arranged—meeting  with his new family, lying about killing them, poisoning Taemin—were slowly crumbling away, Taemin picking at it like Jimin's life was a bowl of candy and he was tossing out the flavors he didn't enjoy.

 

Jimin stared glossy eyed at his ex-lover. Taemin stood contently, proud even, and looked every bit of smug. Jimin would continuously wrack his mind, try and figure out when Taemin became this way. Did he snap? Was it always hidden? What _happened_? Trying to figure out why Taemin had killed their family and when he had become so deadly had stressed Jimin to no end.

 

“I hate to see you cry, Jimin,” Taemin had the audacity to say, as if he hadn't just laughed at his tears earlier. “I had hoped to just live peacefully with you after what I did. I didn't expect you to see it. Nor did I expect you to go and—”

 

Somehow, it was by far the most insulting thing Taemin had said to him up till then. “You thought we would just live happily ever after, with our family murdered? You thought _I_ could just do that, even without knowing you were the one to do it?” Jimin hissed, his anger coming back full fledged.

 

How could he forget all the children he helped take care of and raise? All his friends? Jongin, Baekhyun, Chanyeol, Sungwoon, Timoteo, and countless others he shared his time and life with? The elder vampires that taught them all they knew? The innocent servants and butlers they employed? Their lives lost and their families suffering their own devastation.

 

“These people were our _family,_ Taemin! _You_ were their family, _my_ family!” Jimin's eyes were bleeding into a silver that rivaled his sterling hair.

 

Taemin's face remained impassive, in fact, he looked rather unimpressed. “I never looked at them as anything other than an opportunity.”

 

Jimin reeled back in absolute shock and disgust at his statement.

 

A small smile wandered up Taemin's face, soft and warm, completely lost in the forest of Taemin's evil, harsh eyes, and stony face. “I put up with them because you loved them. Nothing more, nothing less.”

 

The fight broke out in the blink of an eye.

 

Jimin's hands moved too fast for a human gaze to witness as he pulled out his guns and fired several rounds at Taemin, who dodged them expertly. He ran up to Jimin with unfathomable speed and aimed a punch to the side of Jimin's head, but the younger slapped it away and shot again with his other hand. Taemin grabbed the gun by its barrel and crumpled the gunmetal like it was nothing more than tinfoil. Jimin immediately let go of it and aimed his knee to jab into Taemin's guts. The older vampire dodged it, jumping back, then threw the destroyed gun to the side and looked at Jimin crazily.

 

“Jiminie, how dare you use those fucking toys on me!” he spat.

 

Jimin did not grant him a response as he lunged at Taemin again, managing to sock him in the jaw with the butt of his gun before Taemin grabbed him by the hair and lifted him off his feet angrily. He threw Jimin into the chaise, which broke from the force. Jimin scrambled to get up, swayed, and fixed his gaze on Taemin who was standing in a refined way, as if they weren't even fighting.

 

“I hope you know that your lack of loyalty has done you a disservice,” Taemin said, staring Jimin down with his heavy purple eyes. They were as sharp as broken glass.

 

“ _My_ lack of loyalty?” Jimin asked incredulous.

 

Taemin said nothing as he lunged at Jimin again, but the latter caught the lightning-fast strike in his free hand and put three bullets in Taemin's torso. Taemin kicked Jimin's feet from under him him and landed blow after blow to his face. Jimin struggled against it, shot somewhere near Taemin's head, and he could hear skull fragments crack and see a bit of the impact from the shot. But if it affected the older vampire he didn't show it, and instead wrapped his large hands around Jimin's neck and started to squeeze.

 

Through his weakening eyesight, Jimin could see the black blood running down Taemin's face, a bit of the top of his head destroyed. Taemin's face was turning grey as he breathed heavily, putting force into choking Jimin. As he breathed so hard, the black blood falling from his wound and down his face was sprayed along with spittle right into Jimin's face. He struggled, trying to throw Taemin off of him before he lost consciousness. If that happened Taemin would have the power to behead him, to kill him permanently. His arms and hands tried to push him off, to pull Taemin's arms away. Jimin choked, and choked _hard._ He managed to push the gun under Taemin's jaw and before Taemin could react, Jimin pulled the trigger.

 

Thick black liquid exploded from the top of Taemin's head and he staggered backwards. “Shit!” he screamed, falling on his side, thick black rivulets falling down his face, brain and bone speckled throughout.

 

Jimin threw Taemin's legs from around him and leaped up.

 

The shot might’ve saved him in that moment, but Taemin was up just as quickly as Jimin. And the younger knew that, by now, most of his brain had already regenerated.

 

Taemin was after Jimin again, who fended off a brutal punch by a parry with his gun, but it turned out to be a mistake as Taemin grabbed the gun with a wicked smile and crushed it just like he had the other one. He threw it to the side, and thus began a flurry of kicks and punches.

 

They were going at each other heavily, Taemin dripping blood while his bones healed back over. The crackling of their nails growing longer could be heard through the sounds of flesh beating and pounding against skin and muscle. Jimin screamed and crumpled around Taemin's arm as the latter buried his razor sharp nails deep into his bowels. He tightened his grip on Taemin's arm as he hung from his hand. Taemin then slung Jimin off, his nails ripped painfully through Jimin's lower abdomen, and Jimin went sailing with a cry across the room, crashing through the stone wall, damaging part of the door. He tumbled and skidded down the very hall he used to enter the room, stone debris and dust trailed after him.

 

He groaned, intense and indescribable pain flooded through his body. His body quivered from it, shaking pathetically, and Jimin couldn't help but to wonder if he stood a chance at winning this fight.

 

Taemin opened the half of the door that wasn't destroyed, gently closed it, as if he respected the many memories made in that very room. He looked down the hall at Jimin and, despite his soft actions with the door, his face was full of nothing but contempt as he locked eyes with Jimin.

 

A vile snort escaped him. “I wonder why you aren't healing as fast as me,” he taunted.

 

Jimin could barely feel his body creating new cells and muscle tissue to replace what Taemin had destroyed. He stood up, muscles already aching, but had enough in him to glare at Taemin icily.

 

Taemin placed a finger on his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps it has to do with your current interests.”

 

“Shut the fuck up and fight me,” Jimin spat.

 

His elder winked. “Beg harder and maybe I will.”

 

Jimin cradled his healing abdomen pitifully, glaring harshly at Taemin.

 

The other simply kept walking to him, leisurely, assured, like any other mundane activity Tamin did in his life, the duel with Jimin was nothing more than a small hitch. Jimin would never understand what was going through Taemin’s head; He only knew that this man would never again be the man he had fallen in love with, the man that had truly loved him in return.

 

“What happened to you?” Jimin whispered in a small voice.

 

Taemin stopped walking down the hall, yards away from Jimin but able to hear his desperate question, voice dipped in the many nuances of pain and suffering—from physical to mental. He gave out a dramatic sigh, as if he didn’t owe Jimin an answer, as if Jimin’s question was stupid and should be rewarded with a dunce hat and directions to stand in a corner. But Taemin entertained Jimin’s question nevertheless.

 

“What happened to me? Hm…” The thoughtful pause was a rouse. “I decided that I was ready to evolve. Don’t you ever get tired of standing below the Elders?”

 

Jimin looked at him in disbelief. It was obvious that Taemin’s behaviors were driven by being power-hungry, but to hear him say that his motives were as simple as a selfish desire to supersede his Elders, that he killed innocent clansmen over something like _power_ , really widened Jimin’s eyes.

 

He read the look of disbelief on Jimin’s face. “Our clan needed a new leader—”

 

“But you killed everyone!” Jimin interrupted, astonished, horrified.

 

“—and then I realised,” Taemin continued, “that perhaps it’d be better if you and I could…”

 

Jimin’s breath hitched, stomach warm from the new set of intestines slithering into correct positions. His skin began to mold anew over them.

 

His ex-lover allowed for a slimey smirk to slither up his face, “Maybe we could take the place of Teukie.”

 

A surprised gasp bubbled out of his throat. Take the place of Teukie? “How dare you…” Jimin mumbled in angst. Taemin had the audacity to challenge                                                                                        the authority of the Sire Foremost? The Father and Sire of their county and the surrounding ones? Taemin had a lot of nerve—balls made of _steel_ —to challenge the head. It didn’t matter that they came from the same clan originally. Leeteuk’s branch of the clan was chosen for the succession, not Taemin’s, and therefore, while he had claim to the title, he was in line behind at least twelve other clansmen from Leeteuk’s branch.

 

Jimin straightened his back and looked at Taemin with utter confusion and disgust. “What do you mean _we?”_ he hissed.

 

“I mean that I wanted to rule this county, and the others, with you by my side.” He said it like it wasn’t the most ridiculous and scandalous thing he could’ve said, let alone acted upon.

 

“And you thought you could take on Teukie and _win?”_ Jimin asked, his voice laced with copious amounts of contempt.

 

That nasty and arrogant smirk crawled its way back onto Taemin’s face. “Hm.” His hum was full of content, like he’d just eaten a full meal. “Oh, I certainly might not have,” he agreed in a way that could’ve been humble, had the circumstances been different, “but that’s what our family was for.”

 

That final comment was said so blasé, Jimin lost it again. He snapped, charging after Taemin again, aiming a punch that was unfocused and easily blocked. Jimin’s mind was flooded with the knowledge that Taemin’s sole purpose for murdering their family was so he could have enough power to usurp Leeteuk. All the blood he saw running through the halls—the carnage spread throughout like garnishes on a plate, bodies of children and friends, the images that were seared into his memory—were caused by the man who was dodging everything he could throw at him. Taemin jumped out of the way, grabbed Jimin’s arm, and threw him against the wall. Jimin slid down pathetically, crying out as his back arched in pain.

 

He looked up at Taemin with hate-filled eyes. Jimin spat a glob of blood at Taemin.

 

His Sire had the audacity to feign offense. “We leave that kind of behavior in the bedroom, Jimin.”

 

Jimin was breathing raggedly, wishing he had drank more blood than he had previous to this fight. The way Taemin was looking down at him reeked of foreplay. This was just a game to him. Sooner or later he was going to be done playing with Jimin. He would buckle down and start behaving like he wanted to kill him. Some traitorous part of Jimin’s brain was wondering if Taemin was prolonging it because somewhere deep down he still cared and loved Jimin. He spoke of wanting to rule the counties alongside of Jimin, but, Jimin steeled his emotions. If Taemin loved him at all, at any point, he would have never killed their family. That hurt Jimin in the worst way.

 

“Did you ever love me?” Jimin asked Taemin from the floor.

 

Taemin cocked his head with a small smile. “Of course. I still do.” And Jimin knew him well enough to know that what he said was still harrowingly true.

 

“Then why are you doing this?” he bit out.

 

“If the only person I love no longer loves me, what reason do I have to keep them alive?”

 

Taemin said that, but Jimin had noticed plenty of opportunities Taemin had to kill him in that very fight. His efforts in squeezing the guns, how he stabbed mercilessly at his guts, all of that could've easily been applied to his neck, which he instead so carefully squeezed. Maybe Taemin’s reservations in really killing Jimin were subconscious to him, or perhaps Jimin was reaching, seeing emotions Taemin just didn’t have. His words were cold, but still managed to warm Jimin’s heart. Their eyes met, and briefly Jimin could see the Taemin he once knew, the Taemin he knew that loved him, but his old emotions were strangled away by the burning greed in him.

 

A sour smile eased its way onto Taemin’s face, as if crushing the last bit of Jimin’s hope was nothing but a parlor game. “And anyway Jimin,” he said with an acerbic tone, “You have some audacity to ask me if I still love you.”

 

Jimin remained silent.

 

“After all, at least _I_ have remained faithful.” Taemin’s purple eyes narrowed accusingly. “You on the other hand have taken up some rather interesting hobbies.”

 

His heart clenched.

 

“I _asked_ you how you felt about the wolves moving in. How do you _feel,_ Jimin?”

 

Jimin pursed his lips, and instead of answering, stood onto his legs shakily. He looked at Taemin, wincing in pain as he straightened his back. Taemin’s breathing was picking up, noticeable to only those who understood what it meant: he was going to change. The way his hands shook from perverse excitement, the way he clenched and unclenched his jaws to alleviate the itching in his gums, the way his hair seemed to float around him. Jimin could sense the shift in the air, and his own breathing picked up, his own skin started to crawl with the need to transform. Taemin was calculating his every move, and Jimin saw this, saw his eyes cut to every little detail of Jimin’s form. He had always been meticulous in the things he did, tracking with precision, making notes and observations so he could straighten and fix the kinks at a later time. Jimin knew that Taemin was analyzing everything he could, because once the shift came, Taemin wouldn’t be indulging in foreplay any longer.

 

“I told you how I felt.” he lied once more. “You can take it or leave it.”

 

Taemin tutted. “Oh, I think I’ll leave it, since I know you like to _take it_.”

 

That made Jimin’s shoulders and hair raise defensively. “Just what are you insinuating?”

 

His smile was twisted. “I’m saying that I never knew you liked to fuck dogs.”

 

Something in Jimin snapped, and they both launched at each other at once. Jimin’s claws ripped through the flesh of his fingertips as he lunged, pushing his human nail-beds out of the way. He slashed recklessly at Taemin, who dodged efficiently and gracefully. It was at that moment that Taemin dug his own hand, claws bared, right into Jimin’s left shoulder. Jimin let out a piercing scream as he was hauled once more into a wall.

 

As Jimin slammed against the wall again, he gave a pitiful whine. It was full of the creeping doubt that was starting to consume his body.

 

“Amazing,” Taemin said, voice soft like he was actually complimenting Jimin instead of speaking sarcastically. “Don’t you feel the least bit embarrassed?”

 

Jimin only spat blood in his direction again.

 

The older was before him in the blink of an eye, and his foot crashing against his ribs in an even shorter amount of time. Whether Jimin screamed or not, whether he cried or pled, it was lost in the moment. All that mattered was that Jimin was on the floor and he didn’t know if he’d make it out alive. When Taemin lifted him up, dragging his body ruthlessly against the stonewall, he could barely keep his eyes open and his head upright.

 

“Oh, no no _no,_ dear.” His purple eyes searched Jimin’s face. “I don’t want you to lose consciousness yet,” Taemin cooed. “I'm not done with you yet.”

 

But his words fell on deaf ears. Jimin’s head continued to loll around. Although his body was rebuilding itself, Jimin still felt like a helpless doll in the hands of his ex-lover.

 

“Where’s your resolve Jimin?” Taemin asked, and Jimin really wished he wouldn’t get any closer to his face. “Where’s all the resolve you had when you put that poison in my glass?” He pressed Jimin’s back into the wall more aggressively.

 

Why was Taemin dragging this out? Why was he talking and asking all these questions? Jimin wondered if he granted the same agonizingly long defeat to their family. Did he talk them through their deaths? Did he prolong what was inevitable for them? In the moment, Jimin felt just how horrible that must have been, to have one’s last few moments dangling by the length of a conversation. And with that realization came the answer to Taemin’s nagging.

 

Jimin’s resolve was still there, in the memories of his loved ones, in the memories of Taemin’s massacre.

 

He snarled and snapped his fangs at Taemin, who was surprised, but didn’t show it by much. Taemin snapped back at Jimin, canines long and aged, and he dug his claws into Jimin’s arms deeper. “If dogs are so loyal,” he hissed out, “why aren’t your little pets running to your side?”

 

Instead of answering, the younger vampire yanked his arms out of Taemin’s grasp, the nails dragged through his flesh in the process, and he aimed a swift, powerful punch into Taemin’s stomach. As his Sire flew back Jimin snarled once more. It was the last one he gave while still in his human body.

 

The sound of bones cracking echoed in the chilly hall. Jimin was hunched over, and gave a cry as wings erupted from back. It was painful every time, but the pain of his skin being torn and bones rearranging was usually a quick one, just like any other wound he received. Taemin was shifting too; Jimin could hear him from the other side. It was gracious of Taemin to do it, far more gracious than Jimin was expecting. Truthfully speaking, Jimin was sure that one of them were going to attack the other mid-shift, which would grant a serious upperhand. But it seemed as if Taemin wanted to fight on even ground.

 

Their flesh sloughed off, ripping and sliding down their arms as their new bodies emerged. The skin of their vampiric forms was tighter, thicker, like leather wrapped snug around a frame. Jimin’s skin was ash grey, like his hair. Pieces of muscle and tissue melted off his vampire body, hitting the stone floor, sound akin to meat hitting the butcher’s slab. He could hear Taemin breathing heavily, grunting every now and then as he pulled himself out of his human layer. It was steamy now; shifts tended to be a warm affair, especially when the warm body parts dropped through the cold air. Jimin’s short and sterling hair grew down the length of his back, his face had become a snout, teeth protruded out of his lips and pushed them down. His eyes were still a sharp silver, but the iris almost consumed the sclera, which had turned black.

 

He growled ferociously before throwing his head back and letting out a warning cry, and although it was full of pain and suffering, the high-pitched shriek was a scream of determination.

 

Taemin responded, throwing his head back and screaming just as loudly, but with a deeper pitch and more confidence. His head tilted down and his long tongue licked across his snout with arrogance. Taemin’s skin was milky, almost like cream in its color. His form was much stronger than Jimin’s although they were both very lithe, and his hair was the same length, only nearly jet black.

 

Taemin’s violet eyes watched Jimin carefully, they both watched each other carefully. They breathed heavily as they stood around in the deposits of human flesh and muscle. The two vampires were slightly crouched in a defense position, which was easy to do since they’re legs bent naturally in this form. Taemin’s wings twitched, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Jimin.

 

“ _I wish you would give up,”_ Taemin told Jimin, although his mouth didn’t move. “ _Let me kill you quickly, Jimin. You don’t have to suffer so.”_

 

Instead of responding, Jimin propelled himself towards Taemin and hit his Sire across the face. It made a satisfying sound, and Taemin’s head whipped to the right, his body following soon after, flying down the hall. He was able to gain control of himself, twisting mid-air and digging his feet through the stone. The claws on his feet slowed his body, but not without cracking and damaging it.

 

Taemin felt the disrespect and growled angrily.

 

They both launched at each other and began hitting and grabbing nonstop. Claws dug into flesh, feet collided with body, heads butted, and soon the battle was brought into the air. Their wings beat swiftly, and it was hard to concentrate on flying whilst trying to keep their wings from being sabotaged by the opponent. But they maintained a consistent fight until, suddenly, Taemin’s movements became sluggish. It was odd, it stood out. At one moment, Taemin was hitting Jimin with precision, but the last few kicks and punches had missed their mark, and Taemin’s breathing sounded frustrated and tired.

 

However, it allowed Jimin to land a debilitating backhand to the vampire, and his wings slowed down, causing him to go twirling to the ground. He crashed with a grunt filled with pain, and it was oh so satisfying for Jimin to see the vampire lose his upperhand.

 

Jimin flew to the ground swiftly, with his fist drawn back and ready to collide it with Taemin’s face. But the older vampire managed to roll out of the way right before the fist fractured his skull, the floor suffering the impact in his stead. But Jimin was just as swift and angled his body so that he could successfully kick Taemin down the hall immediately after, however Taemin grabbed his ankle and squeezed hard, throwing Jimin away from him.

 

They bounced back quick, standing steadily on their feet and watching the other carefully. Jimin, though breathing deeply, was breathing fine. Taemin’s breathing, however, was _labored._

 

Jimin’s breath hitched. He exhaled disbelievingly.. Just when he thought he’d have to brute force his way through the fight, the poison began to manifest.

 

“ _Wipe that fucking smirk off your face.”_ An angry hiss left his snout. _“You haven’t won yet.”_

 

 _“No I haven’t,_ yet _.”_

 

They continued to stare on at each other,until Jimin spoke, _“Your problem is that you don’t know how to give up. Your clan is not fit to rule this County, and instead of being content with that, with me and our family’s love, you decided to take matters only Fate should deal with into your own hands. Look at what happens when you connive, Taemin. Look at what you wrought.”_

 

It was evident everywhere in the manor—he bloodstains, the missing and damaged furniture, the eerie silence of a family-no-more—all of it was Taemin’s crop, and Jimin was going to make sure he reaped what he had sown.

 

 _“I don’t need you to chastise me,”_ his Sire seethed.

 

Jimin snorted and huffed in amusement. _“You’ve belittled and spoken to me like I’m less than you.. Now, with a chill down your spine, you speak of not wanting to hear_ my _words? Coward!”_

 

They fought again, but Taemin was sloppy and he began to cough uncontrollably. Jimin, after knocking him to the ground, jumped back as Taemin sputtered; out of breath, saliva ran down his muzzle, coughing that sounded painful and constricting. He watched Jimin with blighted eyes as cough after cough prevented him from even moving coherently.

 

 _“Do you know what I’ll do once you begin to choke on your own phlegm?”_ Jimin taunted.

 

Taemin didn’t entertain Jimin with an answer.Instead, he chose to stumble his way into another fight. He attacked Jimin like a drunkard. His movements were unsteady, ill thought out, and weak. Jimin, who had always been somewhat weaker than his Sire, was now effortlessly in control of the battle. Taemin’s bite to his shoulder was half-assed. Jimin grabbed him by the neck and yanked him off. At some point, the fight had begun to turn stale. Taemin could barely breathe and Jimin was able to pry him off with just a tug. His Sire stumbled back, and Jimin was not prepared for what he saw, despite knowing he would eventually see it clearly.

 

His Sire, his ex-lover, was suddenly the embodiment of death on legs. Taemin’s eyes were lackluster, skin soaked in sweat. He could hear Taemin’s body trying to breathe around all the mucus that was clinging to his throat mercilessly. Worst of all, he could see the tiredness in his eyes.

 

 _“Don’t feel sorry for me,”_ Taemin spat.

 

But it was a sad and empty cry. Jimin stayed silent as Taemin no longer had the strength to hold himself up, and he collapsed on the floor. The younger vampire winced. It was hard to see Taemin in that condition.

 

When Jimin began to walk closer, he expected Taemin to try and drag himself from reach, but it was a testament to the Sire’s willpower when all he did was look his death in the face with inordinately proud eyes.

 

The pride was interrupted by him spewing phlegm all over the floor during a vicious coughing fit. Taemin was wheezing by that time. He tried to shield himself away from Jimin using his wings, but Jimin stepped over the vampire, onto his wings and held them down with his feet. Taemin grabbed onto his ankles, however he was too weak to do anything but hang on feebly. He gazed at Jimin, his own creation from many centuries ago, and the younger would have never guessed it would end up like this.

 

Though artificially weakened, Taemin remained stoic. Not an ounce of remorse or any other emotion of pathos crossed his face.

 

“ _I didn’t think you could be this cruel, Jiminie,”_ Taemin said, _“to kill me by making me sick.”_

 

It had to have been a joke. How would Jimin have killed him otherwise? The man was strong enough as it was just by his age alone, with the power of their whole clan inside him, Jimin could have never done it without the powers of the Wise One.

 

He did not reply. Instead, Jimin crouched down, his own wings enclosing them from the outside—from the halls they once knew and enjoyed, from the halls they then fought tooth and nail in, from the joyous memories and the sad ones—everything beyond his wings no longer mattered. Jimin cocooned them, with his knees pinning down Taemin’s wings beneath his armpits, and the latter’s hands resting on his thighs.

 

It was just them. It had always been just them.

 

Jimin couldn’t stop the low whine that left his throat as his eyes softened.

 

This was never how he wanted them to end. Before their lives twisted, he had thought they never _would_ end.

 

He rose and fell with Taemin’s breathing as he continued to sit on the vampire’s chest.

 

_“I think I’m doing this as a favor, Taemin, to kill you by making you sick. I’m not doing this for the glory, or because I can. I’m doing this because I must, because you already lost, long before this fight.”_

 

Taemin’s eyes searched Jimin’s face silently. And then he coughed violently. The muck landing on Jimin didn’t bother him, after all, they had each other’s blood and spit coating their skin and clumping their hair. Besides, Jimin was with Taemin long enough to know these types of fluids, and others.

 

 _“I’m not going to apologize for it,”_ Taemin went on. It did sting — so, _so_ much—that he cared nothing for the people Jimin loved, that he was able to toss them to the side so easily. _“The only thing I regret is doing it when our family got so big, when your heart grew alongside them. I should have challenged Teukie and his clan before ours was so lovingly established. Then perhaps you and I would be ruling this part of Rokera by now.”_ Of course, he would have never been able to defeat Teukie without the powers their family’s deaths had granted him, but Jimin let the dying vampire have his thoughts.

 

_“How could you love me and never love them?”_

 

Taemin’s lips curled in amusement as he choked as a laugh tried to emerge. It was stifled by mucus, and he hacked away. _“Because they were not you.”_ His hands slid weakly up Jimin’s thighs, dragging across his skin and up to his hips. _“I loved you before I even turned you.”_ Jimin could feel the rise and fall of Taemin’s breathing growing ever slower. His eyes were droopy and his breathing struggled.

 

 _“I remember,”_ Jimin assured him.

 

_“And now you want to kill me.”_

 

 _“I_ have _to kill you.”_

 

Taemin coughed even more when he tried to laugh again. _“Don’t try to be brave, Jimin. You and I both know that it should be the County Elders killing a vile and treasonous vampire like me.”_ This was a glimpse at the Taemin he knew, the Taemin that would always cut his food for him because he liked to dote on Jimin, the Taemin that would nag him about if he was hungry and if he wanted to feed, the Taemin than watched over the entire family as the clan Sire. It was salt on an opened wound.

 

Jimin hissed in returned, insulted, and he held Taemin’s hands in a vice-like grip, _“I wanted to make sure you died by my hand. I knew you still loved me, and you’re going to suffer by a loved one’s hand just as you did to the rest of our clan.”_

 

The sentence made Taemin’s mouth split open to show his teeth as he managed to finally, finally, get a laugh around his coughs. He laughed for as long as he could before another coughing fit. And by the sounds of it, hard, his body heaving up and down despite Jimin sitting on him, mucus flew out left and right, and his clammy grip on Jimin’s waist grew tighter.

 

Jimin did nothing but watch.

 

When his coughs began to sound like chokes, gargles and quick panicked gulps for air, Jimin did nothing but watch.

 

Then Taemin’s chest flexed repeatedly, silently, similar to hiccups, and then his grasp on Jimin’s waist loosened, his hands slid down Jimin’s body limply.

 

Jimin only had a short amount of time before Taemin regained his senses, fully healed of the poison. He looked on at his ex-lover’s body, quietly. Jimin leaned forward, sniffed around his neck with his snout tentatively, before opening his wide and powerful jaws and snapping them closed around the other vampire’s neck. The cartilage of the larynx crunched obscenely, and Jimin chewed aggressively, quickly, through Taemin’s neck, swallowing steadfastly at the meat and skin. He lapped it up with practice, though he hadn’t eaten a creature in a long time. And Jimin felt when his teeth bumped against the bone of Taemin’s spine.

 

He barely hesitated for a second until he crushed the spine between his jaws, effectively beheading Taemin. Jimin swallowed the bone hurriedly, as tears he had not noticed began to cloud his vision. It burned him, the feeling, and he let out a long and drawn out cry.

 

Jimin tossed his head back and sucked in lungfuls of air before letting out another shrill, and haunting cry.

 

He fell forward again, claws digging into Taemin’s chest, searching and searching for his heart. Jimin beat a fist against the ribcage, cracked and tossed aside the bone, mournful cries escaping his mouth as he worked. He could barely keep his hands from shaking as they brought up fistfuls of muscles and flesh, stuffing them in his face.

 

His family was inside this man, running through his cold veins, strengthening his sineous and tough muscles.

 

Jimin ate,  and licked his hands clean unabashedly.

 

Jongin’s pinched but jovial face flashed before his eyes.

 

Another bite.

 

Timoteo laughed in all Jimin’s fond memories, Chanyeol, Sungwoon too.

 

Another bite.

 

He thought of the children that used to play in this very manor.

 

Another.

 

All the things the clan elders used to teach him, help him with.

 

And another.

 

Finally he clutched Taemin’s heart in his hands, tightly, the poisoned blood Jimin had served him oozed out and between his fingers. He ate it in two bites.

 

Jimin sobbed while clutching Taemin’s carcass in his jaws.

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
